Trifecta
by zookitty
Summary: For Val. AU. A brutal car crash robs the 3 Petrelli brothers--Peter, Gabriel and Nathan--it takes something from Peter as well. But as the Eclipse approaches on Christmas day there may be more than grief to deal with.
1. Chapter 1: Dead on Arrival

**Gibberings: **This idea came to me randomly, and as it is a Christmas story I wanted to go ahead and post it even though I'm in the middle of Open Wounds (Don't worry readers the next chapter of that is coming very soon).

This is for Val (theonebluegecko) a terrific beta, muse and an amazing friend! -hugs- Thank you so much girl. Merry Christmas!

Betaed by the ever amazing Stef (Greenleofiend)

**AU Notes: **So obviously from the summury Angela and Arthur are dead in this story...but otherwise this is not a deathfic, and since it's AU there are basically no spoilers. Enjoy!

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**Chapter 1: Dead on Arrival **

Nathan runs through the hospital, the pound of adrenaline through his veins tunes out the woman behind the desk screaming at him to check in. He is barely aware of where he is going until he throws open the door and stares into the colorless hospital room.

He sees his brother first, sitting there with shoulders hunched. His hair is falling into his face, all the gel worn out from the many times he runs his fingers through it. It reminds Nathan so much of Peter at that moment.

The oldest Petrelli walks over and lays a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Are you alright Gabriel?"

"I wasn't with them," the younger answers. _Them. _Nathan steels himself and finally looks at the hospital bed. Peter is still. Nathan can't remember a time when Peter was so still, even in his sleep the kid tosses and turns. His normally expressive face would be lax if not for the lines of pain around his eyes. There is a tinge of blue to his lips and fingernails that compels Nathan to rest his hand on Peter's chest, just to feel the slow up and down rhythm. The other hand he brushes gingerly through Peter's messy bangs, being carefully of the bandage around his brow.

He looks up as the door opens, a blonde doctor walks in. She would be pretty if he wasn't so focused on other things right now.

"Mr. Petrelli?" she asks, her voice a little to deadpan for his liking, "I'm Dr. Laurell. Can I have a word?" Nathan quickly squeezes Gabriel's shoulder, offering the comfort that words could not, and followed her. She leads him out of the room and down the hall to a plastic chair. Whether it's his crossed arms or the look in his eyes, she seems to think better of asking him to sit.

"What happened?"

"You were not informed?"

"I know about the accident, I want to know their conditions," Nathan snaps, his nerves frayed. The tight mask of control slips now that he is out of his brother's earshot.

"The car hit front on," the doctor explains, "Your brother was lucky. He was wearing his seatbelt and he was in the backseat. It could have been a lot worse." Nathan hates how removed she sounds, hates her for the cold tone of voice.

"How bad is it?"

"Your brother sustained multiple fractures to his rib cage and his leg, but we're most concerned about the concussion." She replies, "The CAT scans show possible brain damage, we won't know the extent of it until he wakes up." Nathan feels behind him for the chair and falls heavily into it. A part of him understands why she sounded so robotic, separating yourself was the only way to not fall apart in the face of such pain. Nathan could separate himself from his parents, could separate from their life by miles, but he could never—would never—separate himself from his brothers.

A question comes through the haze of 'this cannot be happening' in his mind.

"What about my parents?"

There it is. The break in the shell, the crack in the barrier. "I'm sorry Mr. Petrelli…we did everything we could."

_-_-_

Gabriel clings to Peter's hand. His brother, his twin, the one who is so impossibly different from him and yet gets him so completely. He clings to him and prays. It's not something he learned from his parents. It's not something even Nathan does, but Peter always believed in prayer. He believed in miracles, in high power, in the things he could never see. At that moment Gabriel is not sure he could agree, but he prays anyway. Because he can't lose Peter. He can't lose his twin without losing himself.

Nathan is back then, Gabriel feels him more than sees him enter. The younger Petrelli looks up at those dark eyes and feels it hit. The doctors haven't told him a thing. They promise answers, but he knew they would never give them. Not to him. But when he sees his oldest brother walk in, he doesn't need to be told.

He knows.

_-_-_

"What is your name?"

He cringes at the flashlight being shined into his eyes and wonders how they expect him to answer anything with a nurse poking and prodding him like a fifth grade insect collection.

"Peter Petrelli," he answers, trying to look around the doctor to his brothers but she grabs his chin and forces his eyes back on her.

"And how old are you?"

"Fourteen," he mutters trying not to cringe as they examined the back of his head. "I want my brothers."

"I'm sorry sir?" the doctor with Laurell on her nametag asks.

"I want my brothers," he says, he doesn't care if it makes him sound childish, but he's scared and having a hard time focusing. He knows Nathan and Gabriel are close. They are never far from him when he's hurt. But it's more than that. He also _feels_ them.

They were there when he woke up. When the darkness parted from his vision they were the first things he saw, but instantly the doctor and her nurses swarmed on him like flies with stethoscopes. They'd made his brothers leave, and Peter instantly felt that absence.

Laurell seemed to consider him for a moment, then nodded. "Amy let them back in." The door no sooner opened then Gabriel was at his side, Nathan not even a second behind him.

"Are you alright?" his twin asks.

"I feel ok," he replies, "I can't see very well…" He tries to sit up, but the instant he moves he feels himself fall back to the bed. Laurell is at his side then, one hand on his shoulder.

"What was that?" she asks."

"I can't move my legs…" Peter gasps. Gabriel looks scared and Nathan looks pale.

_-_-_

It's a specialist. Nathan hates that word. Specialists to some means a well trained individual who is better equipped to handle a situation, but Nathan isn't fooled. He knows that a specialist really means that the problem is too big to be handled by a regular doctor. Specialists never mean anything good.

"Everything is controlled by the brain so when something malfunctions due to injury it can affect any part of the body." The man—Dr. Hardy—is dumbing things down. Probably because Peter is there. It makes Nathan dislike the man more. It always frustrates Nathan that no one notices how smart his youngest brother is. One look at the day dreamy eyes and everyone assumes he's retarded. Nathan is feeling extra protective at the moment, and the stress and pain from everything is only helping to heighten the situation.

"So the head injury is why he can't…" Nathan can't get the words out, he forces himself not to look back at the twins. He already knows what they would look like anyway. Peter propped up by pillows because he can't sit up on his own, trying to be brave, and Gabriel perched protectively on the bed beside him.

"Yes," Hardy replies, "It's also the cause of his vision problems."

"Is it…" Peter speaks up, Nathan gets the feeling he is hesitating more for their sake than his own. "Permanent?" Hardy has one thing up on his female counterpart as he turns to the youngest Petrelli and his eyes feel with compassion.

"There's no way to tell yet."

"So…it might not be?" All the optimism in Peter's voice breaks Nathan's heart.

"It's a possibility," the doctor replies, and Nathan doesn't hate him as much now that he didn't crush Peter's spirits. Any relief Nathan is feeling at that moment dissolves as Peter looks at him and asks one question.

"When can we go home?"

_-_-_

They are dressed in black. Gabriel is always dressed in black but Peter never is. It bothers Gabriel to see his brother without color. The black makes him look even more pale and thin than he already is. Gabriel can't stand it so he turns away, focusing again on the mirror and the tie that refuses to work.

"Let me help," Peter says, his voice is thick from crying. Gabriel realizes that Nathan hasn't cried yet, at least not that he's seen. He kneels down in front of his twin and let's Peter's nimble fingers go to work on the necktie. "I'm worried about Nathan."

"He's just grieving," Gabriel replies, wondering again how Peter was so much better at the twin-mind-reading thing than he was. Peter nods and doesn't continue.

Gabriel stands and heads for the door before he stops himself. It's been four days since his brother got out of the hospital and he still hasn't gotten used to all the changes. He goes back to Peter and grabs onto the wheelchair. If Peter noticed that he forgot, he doesn't mention it.

_-_-_

The preacher is speaking and Peter feels the tears pooling in his eyes. He doesn't blink them away like Gabriel does, because it's easier to cry. Easier to release the painful emotions swirling inside of him than to hold them in. The words being spoken are good, but they are no comfort. Maybe one day they will be, but not then. Because at that moment a thought hits.

He's an orphan.

Peter turns instantly away from the stinging thought, turns away from the memories and focuses on Nathan. The oldest Petrelli's face could be made of stone. He looks straight ahead but he's not seeing, because in his mind he's not here. In his mind they are not dead. Peter has heard so much of denial, but he never understood how someone could be so blatantly faced with the truth of loss and not realize it. He never understood until he looked at Nathan.

_-_-_

"Mr. Petrelli the Will is very clear that everything is to go to you until your brothers reach their eighteenth birthday, wherein everything will be split equally," the lawyer informed him.

"What about my brothers?" Nathan asks. He was glad when the lawyer instantly understood, not asking what he meant. Everyone seems to be asking him what he means these days and he's tired of it. Tired of it and the apologies. Just tired of everything.

"They are to go into your custody if you chose to take them."

"Of course," Nathan says without hesitation. Everything else in his world seemed to have a question mark on it, but not that. At least one thing he can be sure of.

**_One Year Later_**

"Hey I'm back," Nathan calls into the house as he drops his briefcase on the floor.

"Hey Nate," Gabriel replies somewhere on his left. The oldest brother turns and sees him sitting on the window bench.

"Did you finish your homework?"

"Of course," Gabe snips back, peevishly. "And I'm fine thanks."

"You won't be fine if you bring home another report card like last one," Nathan replies, heading toward the kitchen.

"There's a note from one of the teacher for you on the desk."

Nathan stops and turns around, sighing in exasperation. "Gabriel."

"It wasn't for me this time ok?"

Nathan walks over to his father's old desk and picks up the green slip of paper. "Peter!" He calls up the steps, "Your teachers are complaining about you spacing out again." He hears the creak of floorboards above his head and looks up. "That's not something most teachers complain about unless they are teaching…kindergarten."

"It's not his fault that class is more boring than the inside of his head," Gabriel offers.

"Not helping." Nathan walks up to the top of the stairs and looks into those brown eyes.

"Sorry Nathan," the younger twin says. Nathan shakes his head.

"You two are gonna age me before my time."  
"Distinguished gray hairs are in this year," Gabriel offers from down the stairs. Peter laughs and reaches up for Nathan. The older Petrelli lifts him out of the wheelchair and carries him back down the stairs. He tries not to think about the fact that he _has_ to carry his little brother, or that Peter is so thin that he still can. He sets him down on the window seat beside Gabriel and heads back up for the chair.

It's been a year and Peter's not better.

_-_-_

Gabriel waits until Nathan has disappeared into the kitchen to talk to Rosy—the maid that had once worked for Angela and stayed on to help Nathan out of loyalty even with the cut in pay—before he turns to Peter.

"What were you day dreaming about this time, little brother?"

Peter huffs at the nickname and Gabriel just grins innocently at him. Peter hated the nickname—being only three minutes younger than his brother—which seems to make Gabe use it more.

"It was really weird actually…kind of awesome," Peter says, "I was standing on the sidewalk beside one of those modern art sculptures, and this guy comes up. He was…weird."

"Like two heads weird?" Gabe asks, and Peter can't help but notice how different his brother acts toward him than to the rest of the world. Gabriel has had a constant chip on his shoulder since their parents died. He gives teachers heck, and generally avoids talking to anyone but his brothers. Even his relationship with Nathan has been more volatile. But Peter realized that his relationship with the older twin has only become stronger. "Or did he have scales all over his body?"

"No not like that," Peter replies, "He just felt weird."

"He _felt_ weird?"

"Like his presence," Peter waves his hands as if the gesture would help his point. "Then he threw a car."

"Was he like Superman or something?"

Peter shakes his head, and replies darkly, "He wasn't Superman."


	2. Chapter 2: Realistic Ideals

**Gibberings: **A double post for Christmas! I hope you all enjoy. umm since I just posted the other chapter I don't have anything to say here...except. Enjoy! Also, hope you are liking this little AU!

This chapter isn't betaed yet because I wanted it up for Christmas, but I will replace it with the corrected chapter later on. Soo if you see a mistake...just turn a blind eye ok?

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**Chapter 2: Realistic Ideals**

Nathan walks into the kitchen, the soft aroma of waffles tempting him. He sees Gabriel standing by the stove and smiles. Rosy had been teaching the older twin how to cook before their parents died. Gabriel had hardly set foot in the kitchen since.

But today is different.

"Mornin'," Gabriel says over his shoulder.

"Good Morning," Nathan replies, sitting down and pulling out the news paper. "Get that paper of yours done?"

"It's not due till Monday." Gabriel flips the waffle sloppily.

"So?"

"So, it's Saturday."

"Oh right I forgot, we have a strict procrastination law in this state," Nathan tosses back, rolling his eyes behind the paper. He hears Gabriel snort, half amused. Gabriel never really was the chatty type, but Nathan does remember a time when the older twin would talk to him about everything. But that was before. "Is Peter up?" Nathan breaks the silence. Gabriel flops the waffles down on the plates before turning.

"Nope, I'll get him."

Nathan watches him go and sighs. The two oldest Petrelli siblings had always clashed a bit. Though Gabriel came off more soft spoken than Nathan, he had a fiery temper and an independent mind. And where the accident had made Peter more needy it had only made Gabe more petulant.

_-_-_

"Hey Pete," Gabriel says, walking over to the bed and shaking his little brother's shoulder. Blurry brown eyes bat up at him.

"Is Rosy cooking?" Peter asks, sniffing the air. The older twin gives his iconic devilish grin.

"Not Rosy."

Gabriel walks over to the closet, and starts shuffling through. "The green one?"

"How bout the blue," Peter replies. After they got back from the hospital it had been slow going. The doctor's suggested they get a nurse, but taking care of Peter was their job, one that Nathan and Gabriel had taken it very seriously. It had been difficult working everything out, but now it is easier. Gabriel doesn't freeze up when he's doing the simple things for Peter, and Nathan doesn't get those far off looks when he's carrying his brother.

At least not as often.

Gabriel tosses the shirt to his brother, followed by a pair of jeans so fast that the latter slaps Pete in the face. The younger huffs without heat, pulling the shirt over his head. Gabriel knows he shouldn't stare, but he does and Peter looks up.

"It's gonna be alright Gabe, our lucks about to change…I can feel it." Gabriel nods, and hopes to God that it's true.

_-_-_

The mood lightened over breakfast. The three brothers exchange banter, and laugh, and a gentle ease comes over the house. Nathan almost lets himself lose track of time, but the practical side that Angela raised into him rears up and he doesn't.

"Alright Pete, we better get going," he says, standing. He heads out to bring the car around, opening the door and nearly collides with the woman on the other side.

"I'm sorry, I was about to ring…" she says, motioning for the doorbell. Nathan steps back and glances her over. Her hair is raven black and hangs to her shoulders except for the bangs that add a girlish charm to her fair face. He notices the box in her hand and puts on his trademark grin.

"Aren't you a little old for girl scout cookies?" he asks. She laughs, it's a full rich sound that catches him off guard.

"I'm actually collecting for the St. Jude orphan fund," she explains. Nathan feels his gut tighten at the word. He is about to answer when Peter wheels up and opens the door further.

Her eyes drop to his but her smiles doesn't waiver. Nathan gives her points for that one, finding himself liking her even more.

"This goes to help the orphans?" he asks. She nods, managing to met his eye without seeming like she's looking down on him. "I would like to make a donation." He turns to wheel around but Gabriel is there then, handing her some money. Her smile brightens.

"Thank you," she says to Gabriel before taking Peter's hand. "And Merry Christmas…"

"Peter," he offers.

"I'm Heidi." She looks as if she is about to go but stops. "You three are brothers?"

"Why do we look like brothers?" Nathan asks.

"You act like brothers," she replies. "Merry Christmas."

_-_-_

Peter lies perfectly still as the bed slides back into the large white machine. He sucks in a breath, trying to imagine he is somewhere else. He closes his eyes.

_His on the street. The man is there again, the cold look in his eyes. Peter is scared, and the man loves that. _

_ They are not alone this time. Another man is there. Tall, with a ruthless look on his face. He lifts his hand and fire dances between his fingers. _

_ Peter feels someone come up behind him. He can't turn to look but the presence feels like safety. _

_ Then the second man throws the ball of fire at him…_

"Ok we're done."

Peter jerks awake at the voice, smacking his head into the MRI machine. The bed instantly moves out from it and he feels a soft hand on his shoulder.

"Are you alright, Peter?" the doctor asks.

"Uh huh," Peter mutters, rubbing his brow. "I just…feel asleep." Dr. Laurell nods, helping him sit up. She carefully checks his pupils to be sure, before calling the nurse to help her get him into the wheelchair.

_-_-_

Nathan waits in the doctor's office. It takes a great deal of willpower not to pace. Laurell makes her appearance and his eyes are instantly on her.

"How's my brother doing?"

"He's alright, he's out in the waiting room with Gabriel."

As much as Nathan appreciates that she has dropped the cold-distant motif with them, there is still a part of him that hates that they've had time to work up to a first name basses.

"What about his…" Condition, problem, situation. None of the words seem quite right.

"Well, we need to wait for the CAT scan and MRI results before I can really say," she replies. There is a note of hesitation that Nathan catches at once.

"But?"

"Nathan, I think it's time to become more realistic about the chances of Peter recovering…"

_-_-_

"How long till the results come in?" Gabriel asks from the passenger seat.

"Not long," Nathan answers, "We should get them before Christmas I'm sure."

"By the way, we're doing Christmas this year," the older twin adds.

"Excuse me?"

"Peter and I talked it over, and we're having a Christmas."

"Do I get a say in this?" Nathan asks.

"No."

"We don't have to do it Nathan, it was just an idea," Peter says from the back. Gabriel watches his older brother glance in the mirror and catch Peter's eye.

"Ok, we can do it."

"Drop us off up here and let us get some stuff from the store," Gabriel adds, eyeing his brother for a reaction.

"And what I come pick you up again in thirty minutes?"

"Nah, we'll walk."

"You want to walk five blocks?"

"It's more like four," Peter says. Gabriel sees Nathan's resistance falter, as the car pulls over. Gabriel gets out and sets up Peter's wheelchair, lifting his brother down into it. He leans back into the car, dropping his voice for Nathan.

"Did the doctor say anything while you were in there?"

"Just the usual," Nathan replies, giving his smile. Gabriel narrows his eyes. He knows that smile.

"Uh huh."

He closes the door and takes hold of Peter's chair, pushing him down the sidewalk.

"Did Nathan seem…" Peter begins.

"Yeah he did."

_-_-_

They wait at the crosswalk. Peter can feel that there is something that Gabriel's not saying. Something Nathan isn't saying. He hates it, but he has a feeling he knows what.

That's why he is so set on Christmas. Last year their parents died, two weeks before the holiday. This year he knows they need it. Nathan and Gabriel as much as himself.

The light changes and they start across. Peter casually eyes the passerbys and feels his breath catch. It was him

The man from his dream.

Peter tries to watch him as the man walks by and disappears into the crowd.


	3. Chapter 3: Under Pressure

**Gibberings: **Finally an update!! My computer crashed, can you believe it? I miss my computer. But I managed to get this chapter done. Sadly for anyone reading Open Wounds you'll have to wait until my computer is functioning again for me to get it because most of the chapter is on there.

Thanks again to Val for the awesome beta job!

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**Chapter 3: Under Pressure **

His breath comes in shallow gulps, like he was drowning in the air. Gabriel knows without checking that his brother's heart is racing, making his own double also. He drops to his knees on the sidewalk, firmly gripping Peter's arms.

"Hey Pete, it's ok. Calm down. I've got you," he whispers, trying to keep the concern inward. If Peter hears he isn't listening. It's been a long time since this has happened, but not long enough for Gabriel. He forces Peter's head down, trying to keep his own breath steady. Their connection is never as acute as when Peter panics. Gabriel can feel it in his being.

It's several cycles of the traffic light before Peter's breath returns to normal intervals. It's a few more before Gabriel stops jittering enough to even dare move his brother.

"What happened?"

Peter shakes his head, "It was them. The people from my dream!"

_-_-_

Nathan squeezes a stress ball absently, staring at the pink walls of the study.

_We need to get realistic about the chances of Peter getting better. _

He had been realistic, pretty much from the beginning. He had been the one to remind his brothers that things don't always turn out the way they want. He'd been realistic. So why did the news feel so crushing? Peter isn't getting better, and when the results finally come they will likely confirm that the youngest Petrelli never will.

"It's good to see you have inherited the classic Petrelli way of managing stress so well."

Nathan looks up at the man as he walks in, the unnervingly casual manner and slight twinkle in his eyes still intact.

"This isn't a good time Linderman." Nathan isn't standing on president today; he doesn't have the stomach to, not for anyone else today. The grandfatherly man folds his hands as if to pray.

"The meeting can wait," he replies "I just wanted to make sure you were thinking over my proposition." Nathan's grip on the ball tightens, though his eyes remain level.

"I will give you an answer on Monday, when our meeting was scheduled."

"Your father and I were always good friends," Linderman comments, lightly. "The kind that take care of each other."

"I'm well aware of this," Nathan replies, "It will go into my consideration." He stands and walks toward the door.

"Yes of course." The door opens before Nathan's hand can even grip it, and he watches as Gabriel pushes Peter through the door, the elder twin's eyes narrowing at the Vegas casino owner. "Hello boys."

"Hello Mr. Linderman," Peter replies, ever polite though Nathan hears clearly the strange note in his brother's voice. Their father's old partner takes Peter's hand, covering it firmly with the other.

"How are you feeling dear boy?"

Nathan hates how sincere Linderman sounds. It's half of what makes him so successful yet the other half of the equation worries Nathan even more.

"I'm alright," Peter says, his tone is tight. Strained. Nathan puts a hand on Linderman's shoulder then, a friendly enough gesture with the slightest push behind it.

"We will discuss the matter further on Monday," he says, shutting the door behind the older man. Nathan takes a second to regain his equilibrium, something he often has to do after being in the mobster's presence. When he opens his eyes his attention instantly goes to Peter.

"Are you alright?"

"I…"

"He had a panic attack," Gabriel cuts in, his tone sharp. "Do we still have his prescription?"

"The pills are in the kitchen," Nathan replies absently, "Peter are you alright?"

"I'm ok Nathan," the youngest answers tiredly.

"What brought this on?"

Nathan doesn't miss the look Peter exchanges with his twin. "I thought I saw something." Nathan kneels in front of his brother's wheelchair, lifting Peter's chin to look into his brown eyes.

"Is it your vision?"

"You know not everything has to do with his condition," Gabriel snaps, coming back from the kitchen. He tosses the pills to his brother, his glare never leaving Nathan.

"I didn't mean anything by it Gabriel," the oldest growled, "You know that."

"Whatever."

"Gabriel. I swear you were never this difficult for Mom."

"Well you aren't her are you?"

"Guys!" Peter's shrill call stops the argument instantly. "Just stop ok? This isn't helping. I'm fine. I just thought I saw something." Peter rubs his forehead. "I'm gonna take my pills and get some rest. Just…try not to kill each other while I'm gone, ok?" Peter wheels into the kitchen. Nathan watches him go, seeing the ghost of a time when Peter could have _walked_ through that door.

"Are you working with him now?" Gabriel's voice drags him back to the present.

"Who?"

"Linderman."

"Gabriel…" Nathan sighs, running a hand across his brow.

"Because I thought you told me after Dad died that we were done with Linderman."

"Gabriel, you keep putting things in cookie cutter terms, it's not that simple."

The younger turns away, but not before Nathan saw the empathic eye roll. "Here we go…"

"This is not some high school problem. This is real life, kid."

"You don't think I know that? He's a criminal."

Nathan falls into the chair again, letting his head list against the back. "Gabe…it's been a rough day, just lay off ok?"

"What did the doctor say about Peter?" Gabriel's tone softens.

"Just what I told you," the lawyer replies, "We'll know before Christmas."

"He's not getting better is he?" It's not really a question. Sometimes Nathan hates that their Mom passed on her perception to the twins. "But he was making progress right? Last time they said he was making progress!" Gabriel's tone is desperate, abandoning logic for childish hope. Sometimes Nathan forgets they are still kids.

"He was," he answers frankly, "Now he isn't."

"He's getting worse." Anger, denial, bargaining, sorrow. Nathan wonders if anyone can go through the five stages as fast as his little brother.

_-_-_

Linderman walked into his New York office, hanging his coat on the way in. His eyes fall on the five tall wooden boxes lining the room around him.

"They just came in," his secretary says, her green faux Prada pumps clanking as she joins him.

"Excellent," he replies, spying a crowbar on the floor and lifting it.

"Should I get someone to do that for you sir?"

"I'm perfectly capable Marian."

"Of course sir." She ducks out of the room, leaving him alone with the boxes. He lifts the crowbar, prying the top away and letting it fall aside. A grin, so seemingly innocent, spreads across his lips as he looks down at the object. A canvas with a one of a kind work on it.

The painting was of a boy, dark hair hanging in his face and blood on his hands.

"You've outdone yourself this time Isaac Mendez."


End file.
